– Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher
― Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery
Worry is a demonic embryo, its umbilical cord attached directly to my peace of mind and contentedness. It draws creative energy from them while imparting a deadly pathogen of anger, haste, and anxiety in a sticky mire of mental paralysis. The foul sinister infant spoils achievement by robbing me of the pleasure of attainment and eating the beauty of “Now” by a bloody spell of “What If”. To what do I owe the conception of this deceitful child? The copulation occurred by a rape of my mind from circumstances beyond my control. I thought it best then that I destroy it, to rid the world of this scourge. Many coat hangers of those attempts at abortion litter my thoughts. The wounds I inflicted are worse than the thing itself. Still, I made it this far, although I see it kick in my belly, its grasping hands pressing against my skin, deforming the beauty of birth with its sickening form. There is one antidote, a thing just as evasive yet, powerful enough to counter the poison of the demon Worry – my lover Faith. I follow her close and with every wonderful kiss she imparts a temporary immunity to my anxious contractions. There are nights I lay in her arms, as the thunder approaches, and instead of frightening me, it provides a romance for our affair, our bed alive with the fiery passion of battle. Faith, how is it you can take my dreary anxious nights and give me smiles of joy in the mornings after? The battle rages on, the sickness only cured by death, wherein Faith and I will join in eternal matrimony, our children never cursed with the vile afflictions of Worry.
You shout at me, I try to ignore what you do
Your always there, I try to behave
You won’t let me be alone, I don’t want a shadow
You don’t let me talk, I’m too loud
You will never give up, I try to run
You make me afraid, I make excuses
You intimidate my friends, I try to explain
You hide and peek at me, I can’t know where you are
You intrude on my privacy, I just want to be alone
You threaten my existence, I just want to be safe
You make me do things, I’m embarrassed to say
You sink lower in your life, I watch you fall
You struggle to bring me down, I struggle to breathe
You will not win, I’ll survive
You will not change me, I’ll be hard
You will not violate me again, I will kill
“The moment there is suspicion about a person’s motives, everything he does becomes tainted.”― Mahatma Gandhi
Be advised that I take artistic license in the expressions and creations I present in my posts. Forewarned is forearmed, proceed at your own risk.
It is an image unlike any living visage, stretching further, a distortion that discerns reality. This is the shadow. The position of light influences the distortion of it, happening without my conscious decision. My only control is where I place myself in reference to the light. What is the light that I stand in? Where will this light strike me? This determines the length and breadth of my darkened friend. If run from that light I find darkness with every step. When I face the light, my path lit with comforting revelation. it’s discouraging at first, to see my faults and missteps in the glaring brightness, but it’s comforting to find that at least I am dealing with reality. This reality is always harsh, but it provides facts that help me to face change.